Gone and Back Again
by Casiple's Castle
Summary: Stiles knew that the beautiful girl with strawberry blonde hair should stop stalking him.


**Title**:_ Gone and Back Again_

**Category**: _Romance/Mystery_

**Pairing**: _Stiles/Lydia_

**Prompt**: _What if Stiles had amnesia._

**Summary**: _Stiles knew that the beautiful girl with strawberry blonde hair should stop stalking him._

**Disclaimer**:_ I don't own Teen Wolf. Obviously._

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><p>There was a beautiful girl stalking him.<p>

On any other day, Stiles wouldn't have minded. He would probably be more thrilled than anything. But this was border lining ridiculous. Especially since he had a girlfriend named Lorry. Pretty, smart and kindhearted Lorry. A compliment to his quick wit and heavy sarcasm. They were in their second year in college. She majored in medicine while he majored in criminology. They had an apartment a few blocks from the university. There were nights where they'd curl up on the couch and watch movies with too many stuff blowing up or with scenes with too many sickly sweet cheesy lines. Stiles would play with her blonde curls and later, much later, she'd look up into his eyes with her soft blue ones and they'd retreat to their bedroom where they'd hold on to each other and lose themselves in fervent love making. They'd have lunch after morning classes or Stiles would come visit her on her afternoon shifts in this little cafe she works in. She would always smell like coffee afterward and Stiles would kiss her senseless then because what can he say, he loved coffee. He would do laundry on Wednesday afternoons and she would order take-away for dinner on Fridays.

They have a system and it works. They were good for each other, perfectly matching.

Then the stalking started.

She was subtle, lingering in the edge of Stile's peripheral. Someone sipping latte in the corner. Someone who attended the same lectures. Someone using the same laundry shop. Pretty but fleeting. Someone unnoticeable.

Except Stiles did notice.

And it was driving him nuts.

The occurrences could easily pass off as coincidences and Stiles brushed it off at first. But she was constantly there. Everyday. And he didn't mind. No, not really. But whenever she was there, he would get this tingly feeling somewhere inside him. Like an itch he doesn't know where to scratch.

She was striking and alluring without even trying, silently gauging him. A constant, persistent presence. He felt like a gravity that she orbited on. Or, as he was beginning to realize, vice versa.

Stiles isn't one for confrontations but she has got to stop. Or go. Preferably both.

So, when an opportunity presented itself, he took it like a fish to a bait and prayed to whoever heard that metaphor wouldn't backfire on his face.

It was midafternoon, just an hour after lunch. They were in a diner a couple of blocks away from the university and people were just starting to disperse. She sat in a booth on the other side of the diner, sipping on her strawberry milkshake while reading _Advance Mechanics in Quantum Physics_, seemingly unaware of Stile's scrutiny.

(Maybe she was just pretending.)

He was neither sure if she was luring him or he was losing screws. Maybe he was just assuming things or maybe she was just that good. She might even be a psychopathic serial killer. He didn't care. He was getting answers one way or another.

He stood from his table, threw a few bills on the table and strode across the diner, carefully maneuvering tables and dashing waitresses. He slid into her booth with pretentious ease even though his heart was racing against his ribs. She looked up from her book and gave him a questioning glare but Stiles was certain, there was a moment in her green eyes where it flashed with something he could barely recognize. A foreboding feeling as if this moment was prewritten. Inevitable.

"Hi." he said and internally winced. Smooth, Stiles. Real smooth. "So, I've seen you around and I was wondering-"

"No." she suddenly interrupted that it caused Stiles to frown, bewildered.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said no. Want to hear it in Spanish? _Noh_."

Stiles had the insane urge to laugh. He would have if it wasn't smothered by the familiarity that washed over him. It felt like someone pulled a string, vibrating through him like static. He shook his head.

"I don't think I understand."

She snapped her book shut with a loud thud and leaned closer, her red lips turning into a sickeningly wicked smile. Her short red hair looked like embers in the afternoon sun.

No, not red. Strawberry blonde.

"You were going to ask me out. I'm saying no. Any questions?"

"What? No- no, I wasn't trying to-.."

She gave him a look that told him she will mercilessly call on his bullshit if he didn't stop talking. Stiles turned a funny shade of pink. He felt ridiculous now, coming to sit in her booth. His little confrontation was turning its tables on him and the fish-to-bait metaphor was definitely backfired on him into one gigantic karma. But that tingly feeling inside him was roaring, getting stronger each second he was near her. It made him sure.

"Why are you following me?" he blurted out before he can think about it.

"I'm not following you. You're following me."

"No, I'm not."

"Who invaded who's privacy again?"

"Well, I did-"

"Exactly."

"But I've seen you."

"You must have a pretty good observation skills." she told him dryly.

"And you're good at deflecting the subject even if we both know this entire act is plain bullshit." he called on her, annoyance building up in his chest. She glared at him but it was faltering. He sucked in and held his breath. After a moment, she looked away.

"I told you. I'm not following you. Leave me alone."

She grabbed her purse, tossed a couple of dollars on the table and left.

He watched her half run to the door, the glass frame rattling as she slammed them close. Stiles groaned. Just when he was about to get up and do the same, Stiles noticed she left her book behind.

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><p>Let me know what you think.<p> 


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